


the most beautiful part of your body is where it's headed

by sunrising



Category: GOT7, JJ Project
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dancer Park Jinyoung (GOT7), Hurt/Comfort, King Im Jaebeom (GOT7), M/M, jaebeom is a young king and jinyoung is a ballet dancer, so it'll hurt so good then feel so good then hurt a bit more before we get to the Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunrising/pseuds/sunrising
Summary: Jaebeom is a young king who has spent a decade fortifying his walls, perfecting his mask, and maintaining flawless control of his emotions.  He's hurting inside, but no one needs to know that.  He cannot be anything less than absolutely untouchable and impenetrable.  It's the only way he can keep going.But autumn has come around again, and the world changing color has also brought with it a whole host of other changes that will turn the young king's life completely upside down.Leaves need to fall and winter has to pass if spring is to have any chance of coming.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 30
Kudos: 80





	1. prologue: leaves that are green turn to brown

**Author's Note:**

> i leave little notes at the end of chapters, i hope you can take the time to read it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s autumn. Leaves are turning brown, and with that comes a whole host of other changes that will turn a young king’s life completely upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and the leaves that are green turn to brown  
> and they wither with the wind  
> and they crumble in your hand  
> hello, hello, hello, hello  
> goodbye, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye  
> (Leaves That Are Green, Simon & Garfunkel)

Autumn had come around again.

Young king Jaebeom was in the cabinet adjoining his bedroom, sitting on cushions on a bay window overlooking a forest of reds and oranges, papers in hand. His castle sits on top of a rugged hill, his kingdom sprawled beneath it. West of the castle loomed a majestic mountain range that seemed to be perpetually snow-capped; east of it and below were the lovely villages always teeming with activity, and not too far off was a lake they called Swan Lake.

The captain of his guard knocks on the door to the cabinet before entering. The king doesn’t seem to hear him—or if he did, he was ignoring the guard on purpose. His guard waits two beats, then three; when the king still doesn’t acknowledge him, he clears his throat.

Jaebeom still doesn’t look up at him, only murmurs a quiet, “I know, Mark, give me a moment.” He seemed to be attempting to read through official letters, but Mark could tell that his mind was elsewhere; he was staring at the trees that had grown so tall around his castle, even from how high up it was—they looked like fingers of a giant hand holding the castle up. Jaebeom’s own fingertips absentmindedly traced outlines of the trees on the glass of the window, too distracted to continue his work.

Mark was about to clear his throat again because being late to his own meeting was not something Jaebeom wanted, but he stopped short when it dawned on him why Jaebeom was being so inattentive as opposed to his usual sharp focus.

It was because _autumn had come around again_.

No one else in the entire kingdom, save for Mark himself, understands this. No one else knows that the young king who is all cold ice and hard edges secretly adores the way the world colors itself warmer.

But more importantly, no one else knows that autumn coming around also means the young king will find it harder to battle his demons. Because even if a decade’s worth of autumns have passed, some losses are just near-impossible to recover from.

And this young king lost everything in one autumn, ten years ago.

“Mark?” Jaebeom says, and the guard is startled from his thoughts by his king who has finally put down his papers and has stood to grab his coat.

The guard opens the door and gestures toward it. “Whenever you’re ready, sire.”

Mark pretends he doesn’t hear the small sigh Jaebeom makes when the king walks past him and out the door.

\- ♢ -

The captain of the guard stands by the door, the only other person aside from the king and the royal advisors who is allowed to be in the room when meetings are being held. From his position, he has clear view of Jaebeom at the head of the table, and when he has checked and double-checked that nothing in the room seems to be out of the ordinary, he focuses his gaze back on his king.

Jaebeom is being his usual self: completely emotionless and completely still, posture perfect in his seat, his gaze clear and alert — the last of which is the only way Mark can tell that the king cares about his responsibilities. The king is still all but human though, and like in many other meetings where the old advisors drone on and on, the king’s ice mask is tinted slightly with boredom.

It’s only because Mark’s watching Jaebeom’s face so closely that he catches the one — and _only_ one — second that the king’s face changes, and when he tunes in to hear the conversation, it’s just in time to hear—

“— a royal wedding, sire. There is much to be done. We must prepare for the arrival of…” Mark doesn’t care to hear for the rest of it. His eyes immediately search for Jaebeom’s, and while he’s a Mr. Robot himself, he knew that when he locked eyes with Jaebeom, the king could read the shock on his face.

Jaebeom, on the other hand, is not like Mark. He is _the_ Mr. Robot. One second of emotion was one second more than he cared for anyone to see, and when he averts his gaze from Mark and back to the advisors, Jaebeom’s flawless control has kicked back in and the mask is firmly in place.

No one else saw that. No one else caught that one second of emotion, but Mark knew what it was. Jaebeom was caught completely off-guard.

Mark will swear up and down that in that one second, Jaebeom’s face was painted with absolute, overwhelming panic.

\- ♢ -

It was the iron will he honed for years that kept the king together.

He did not want to do what they wanted. He did not want to marry a stranger. He did not want to share his privacy with a prince he’d never met. He did not want to take part in all the ritual and festivity a wedding entails. He hated this faceless prince, he hated his advisors, and he hated all their dumb ideas.

Autumn had come around again, and he hated that he was losing another battle.

But no matter how hard he is on himself, at the end of the day, sleep softens his sharp edges. (Jaebeom knows this, and it makes him hate the idea of his marriage even more. No one should see him soft.)

No matter how high his walls stand during the day, no matter how cold a façade he maintains while awake — the young king is all but human.

Jaebeom does soften in sleep. Some nights, he faintly hears music from his childhood in his dreams—like a familiar caress at the edges of his mind, urging him to remember.

Deep in sleep, tears roll down his cheeks as his subconscious mourns.

(They dry up well before he wakes, and it’s like it never happened—so the king steels himself to face a new day and continues on pretending like he is no longer hurting.)

(He still is.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello i have never ever ever written a fic and put it up for other people to see so this is my first attempt. please be nice ;(
> 
> first of all: the title of the fic comes from one of my favorite poems, Someday I'll Love Ocean Vuong by Ocean Vuong. i thought it would fit well because while i don't specifically know where this is going to take me, i know i want it to be a story of hurting and healing and finding peace and love.
> 
> this whole idea came to me when the DYE promotions were ongoing, and with those outfits on them, i really couldn't help but imagine them all as royals and nobles. plus the whole concept of the title song being about finding the one person to bring color to an otherwise colorless life ,, i mean c'mon when they said "All of me comes to life through you, I won't ever let you go; Don't ever let go of my hands, Because nothing has meaning without you" ?????? i just KNEW i had to write something.
> 
> okay sorry for the word vomit. so here it is. this is chapter zero aka the prologue, and here's to finding it in me to write more (as soon as possible).
> 
> p.s. to joules, the only other person besides myself who has seen the old (and fugly) draft - if you see this, well. here it is. thanks for screaming about jjp with me any (waking) time of any damn day.


	2. my castles stand upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaebeom didn’t know it yet, but the universe had plans for him to come home—to where (or perhaps to whom) he didn’t know. He has spent too long running and hiding, but now he is being called home.
> 
> He didn’t know it yet, but things were being set in motion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one minute I held the key  
> next the walls were closed on me  
> and I discovered that my castles stand  
> upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand  
> (Viva La Vida, Coldplay)

The young king didn’t have friends.

There’s no surprise there — his walls are up as high as they can go, and the words that come out of his mouth are always only those that are strictly necessary.

Well the captain of his guard is the closest thing he has to a friend, if only because the young captain has been there for every momentous thing in Jaebeom’s life.Many people in the kingdom remember the king when he was a child, because the child prince was the entire kingdom’s joy.Many people also remember that terrible autumn ten years ago, but no understands why it so drastically changed the prince. 

Mark was right there, though — he’s the only one who comes close to truly understanding why Jaebeom is the way he is today.

Right now though, his sort-of-friend was off doing whatever he did as captain of the king’s guard, so Jaebeom was left with a younger guard he was able to easily lose in the hullaballoo of the gardens.Many of the gardeners were busy sweeping all the fallen leaves and tidying everything up before guests arrived in the coming week, and in the flurry of activity, Jaebeom was able to slip away.

It was three weeks until his wedding, and while he didn’t care much for the preparations, people still insisted on coming to him to get his approval on the tiniest things—did he want the table cloths to be in pearl or alabaster? And depending on which one he chose, did he then want the table napkins to be in chiffon or eggshell white?

As if no one understood him when he said at the end of the meeting that he _doesn’t care, just do what needs to be done._

He was going insane.And he needed a break.

His destination in mind, like many times over the last few weeks, was the castle kitchens to hunt down the royal pastry chef’s son and quietly demand a treat he had been thinking about all morning.In a nonchalant way.As if he didn’t want it as much as he did.

On his way, he started debating whether he should even be going there in the first place, because each time he went and faced the pastry chef’s son, that guy’s smile just kept growing and growing, while Jaebeom got more and more tempted to drop even just a few of his walls.

And that was not something he wanted.Too much was already changing, he needed to stay the same.

But… maybe going one more time was not so bad if he could just get a—

“Your Majesty! _Another_ strawberry shortcake? You know you’re only proving my point that you _are_ soft inside, sire.Literally nothing about you screams strawberry shortcake,” said a sing-song voice the moment he stepped through the doorway, a matching teasing grin directed his way.

No one speaks to him this way — this comfortably.Not his advisors, not his guards, not his staff, and not even Mark.The young pastry chef seems to be the only person who doesn’t care that the king is a robot personified and treats him like any other guy a few years older than him.

Jaebeom’s eyes narrow, but only slightly—he did not want Youngjae to see he was affected by all the teasing.Because he _wasn’t_.(He was.)

“You don’t even know why I’m here, Chef Choi,” Jaebeom tries to say with his usual quiet cool. _Tries_ being the key word.

Youngjae chuckles, bending to pull out from beneath the counter what was indeed a strawberry shortcake, sitting pretty on a plate.He sets it in front of the king, as if dangling a toy in a cat’s face.He narrows his eyes at the king, but that same teasing grin is dancing on his lips.“Are you saying it _isn’t_ for a strawberry shortcake?Because that’s just too bad then, maybe I’ll just put it aside for Captain Tuan, or maybe one of the—”

Jaebeom grabs the plate unthinkingly and Youngjae raises his eyebrows at him.It takes Jaebeom a second to realize what he’s done and when he does, he tries to gracefully set it back down on the counter. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he internally berates himself.He’s withstood many things but he’s losing it over _a piece of this damned_ _strawberry shortcake._

Youngjae snorts fondly at the inner turmoil he can guess is going on in the king’s head, if the fists clenched at his side are any hint.“I’m only kidding, sire.Of course this is for you.You never lighten up!With all due respect, it’s nice to see you flustered once in a while, you tall block of ice!”At Jaebeom’s slight eyebrow raise, Youngjae hurries to tack on a “your Majesty”.

He doesn’t sound apologetic at all though.The brat.

The young chef isn’t flustered for long, and soon he’s reaching for one of the king’s clenched fists and prying it open, handing him the plate.Youngjae sighs in mock exasperation.“Just take it and go, your Majesty.And stop pretending about this every time you come.I have one ready for you every morning just in case, and if you don’t come by for them… well like I said, Captain Tuan enjoys them as well.”Youngjae beams in Jaebeom’s direction.

Jaebeom sighs softly and relents, accepting that he’s completely ruined his image in front of the young chef.And that he needs to be more careful, because he has a sneaking suspicion the cracks in his armor will only grow.“Thank you, Chef Choi,” he says quietly, and in a rare instance, he lets his gratitude show in his voice.He’s genuinely thankful for this small act of kindness.

Youngjae’s smile softens.“For you, sire, anytime.And it’s just Youngjae, please.Chef Choi is my father.”He wrinkles his nose at that.

Jaebeom inclines his head the slightest bit in acknowledgment and turns to leave.He says something under his breath on his way out, something along the lines of _and so what if I like strawberry shortcake, what does it matter to anyone_ , but Youngjae unfortunately hears it and laughs his booming laugh with his whole chest, the warm sound echoing in Jaebeom’s head.

\- ♢ -

“Mark.News?”

Mark steps forward from where the doorway where he was watching the king put a coat over his tunic in front of the mirror, a hand on the pommel of the sword at his hip. 

“I overheard something from the castle gossip grapevine, and I thought you should know.I… I thought it might help that you hear it from me first.”Mark pauses.Jaebeom meets his eyes in the mirror.Mark’s handsome face was its usual calm and cool, but Jaebeom could tell that his guard was uncomfortable.

“It’s okay, you can just spit it out,” Jaebeom says with practiced patience, but inside he was itching to hear it.He had a bad feeling, and dread was pooling in his stomach at the thought of what it could be.

Mark sighed, like it pained him to have to say it, but he had to let the king know.“The company is scheduled for several performances during the week of the wedding.”

Jaebeom froze.It was so quiet, but the sound of Jaebeom’s heartbeat filled his senses.He doesn’t think he was even still breathing.All his thoughts came to a full stop.

Mark was still composed, but an apology was clear in his eyes as he stared his king down in the mirror.He wasn’t sorry about telling the king; he was sorry because he was probably the only person in the entire castle who understood why this was a big deal.He’s sorry he only found out about this now and was not able to give Jaebeom an earlier warning.

Jaebeom had been the poster boy for stillness for years already, but when he stiffened this time, there was nothing graceful about this.This was shock and utter dread.

The day after they officially moved into this new castle in the spring that followed that one terrible autumn, Jaebeom made one royal decree—and it was perhaps the one that marked the day he changed.

He decided there would be _no more_ performances.Of any kind.At all.Not as long as he was living in that castle.And nobody could say anything against his decision.

Until now.

Jaebeom’s voice was so soft, but in the way that a breeze could prelude a storm.“I’m sorry, did I hear you right?The _company_?”He turns to face his guard, moving so carefully.

“Unfortunately, you did hear me right, sire.The company is arriving in a week so they have time to settle and rehearse on site.”Uncharacteristically, Mark shuffles a bit in place, like he was anticipating some sort of explosion from the king.

But all Jaebeom did was close his eyes and inhale once.Exhale.Inhale again.Exhale again.

When he reopened his eyes, it was like he was back to normal.

If there was one thing Jaebeom had enough practice of, it was pretending everything was okay.

“Call them all to the meeting hall.Now.I want answers.”

\- ♢ -

“I thought I made myself perfectly clear all those years ago,” Jaebeom started, looking not at the men assembled but at his finger where it drew shapes on his armrest.Still the picture of perfect nonchalance.He spoke so casually, in his usual quiet tone, but he knew everybody was nervous. 

There was a certain chill in the way he was talking that they knew to be wary of, because ice could burn, too.

After all, they were all perfectly aware that they blindsided their king.Going against him—well, didn’t that amount to treason?

A minute.Two.No one was saying anything.“Well?” Jaebeom bit out, this time in a harder voice, raising his gaze to the men so they could see in his eyes without a doubt that he was _not_ pleased.

Someone finally spoke up, and with the way he did one would’ve thought they were trying to placate a wild, ravenous beast.And maybe they were indeed.“Your Majesty, we apologize for not informing you in advance—”

“—and you know, going against my very explicit order, but go on.”He was still tracing shapes on the armrest.

The advisor hesitates but pushes on with an explanation that sounds rehearsed, palms spread out in front of him.“A wedding is a celebration, sire.We have not gone against your order in the past years because there has been nothing to celebrate, but the wedding of the king is no simple affair—especially since your Majesty is marrying another royal.You will have guests from different kingdoms aside from your fiancé’s own entourage, and while we your people might be used to the silence,” the advisor winces as he says this, “your guests are not.Everybody expects some kind of performance to accompany the celebration.Not to mention the possible offense it might bring to the prince you are marrying.”

The advisor was not looking at Jaebeom while he spoke, so he didn’t know the king had stopped his dawdling and had gone still.He was surprised that when he looked the king’s way, a steely gaze met his.He ducked immediately.

Jaebeom did not like this.He hated it exponentially more than the idea of his wedding.But he was also just so, so tired.Too many things were changing and it was overwhelming; he’s exhausted just trying to stay sane. 

See, he didn’t hate being king; he grew up a beloved prince, after all.What he hated was how he became king, and he hated that he felt like he was doing it all alone.He’s maintained just enough interest in the royal affairs to make sure that his people didn’t starve, didn’t pay exorbitant taxes, and everyone was happy. 

So why insist on royal decrees now, when he has kept his crown at arm’s length for so long?

And maybe deep down, he thought he had hardened enough to be able to suffer through this relatively unscathed.(Of course, no one could warn him about severely overestimating himself.)

He doesn’t mention any of this.“Well,” he says in a dull voice as he pushes away from his seat to leave, “somebody make sure to warn the cleaning staff against polishing the ballroom floor too smoothly.”

There was a hurried chorus of relieved _yes sire_ ’s and _of course, your Majesty_ ’s as everyone marveled at the king’s — admittedly — anti-climactic response.

\- ♢ -

Autumn had come, changes were happening, and many things that used to be rare instances were now occurring more often.

Mark was having to watch the king struggle to keep his emotions buried more often.

Jaebeom was having to fight to remain calm and in control more often.

Subsequently, Youngjae was having to make strawberry shortcake more often for the two people who came looking for the treats.He seems to be the only one who didn’t mind his new normal.

\- ♢ -

At sunset a week later, the castle is buzzing with excitement.The royal wedding is in two weeks, but that is not what has everyone on their toes.

The theater company has arrived in its full glory, a whole retinue of musicians, singers, dancers, and actors stepping foot on royal grounds after years of the gates being closed to them.The courtyard in front of the castle’s main doors is a hubbub of activity as performers and castle staff greet each other and everyone starts moving baggage, equipment, and people to where they’re directed.

One performer stands a little bit away from the commotion.He stares at the castle in quiet awe, like he’s dreamed all his life of being able to step inside.He had seen it steadily grow in his view on their way up the hill, but actually standing in front of it right now was overwhelming to him.

The last rays of sunlight of the day touch this man’s face in what was almost like reverence, like one beauty acknowledging another.

\- ♢ -

Two souls were coming home, but neither of them were aware yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you made it here, hello! this is the first full chapter!
> 
> god i absolutely adore the idea of coming home. coming home as in to an actual house, coming home as in falling into the arms of a person you love, or even coming home as in finding your way back to who you really are after you've spent so long pretending otherwise.
> 
> ALSO - you guys, i think the stars aligned for this fic. seriously. i just googled "when does autumn start in the northern hemisphere" and it's literally SEPTEMBER 22. that's insane.
> 
> anyway. this came up sooner than i expected and now i don't know how long the next one will take, but i hope all of this makes sense so far! (and if it doesn't - let me know in the comments or if you want to talk on twitter, i’m @sunrisebeom!)
> 
> happy early birthday, jinyoungie! fictional you is the metaphorical autumn in this fictional jaebeom's life, and you will help him come home.


	3. i came back from being so far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When your future comes to you in a ball of boundless energy you have no idea how to act around, what do you do? And when the past you’ve tried so hard to bury comes to you in the form of a beautiful person, what do you do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 돌아왔지 너무나도 멀리 / i came back from being so far  
> 영원할 것 같던 시간 지나 / past the times I thought would last forever  
> 잘 지냈어 보고 싶었던 너 / how have you been? i missed you  
> 슬픔이 눈에서 떨어져요 / sadness falls from your eyes  
> (Coming Home, JJ Project)

“And this here is, of course, the royal main theater,” the staff member says, pushing open the enormous doors to a dark and cavernous hall. The only light was the sunlight flooding in from the hallway through the doors, but more staff members were hurrying around to switch on the lights.

 _Oh_ , Jinyoung thinks, as the theater floods with light. He's trying his best to rein in his excitement, unlike the two younger dancers next to him who cannot for the life of them speak any quieter than loud. The two keep on exclaiming to each other about how the theater looks just as it was described in the stories told by older, retired company members.

And indeed it did look like the stories described it. The theater was designed by people who loved the stage and its magic, and it was absolutely beautiful. Everywhere Jinyoung looked he saw gold, and rumor had it that the theater hall was the most gilded and opulent room in the entire castle—beating even the grandeur of the throne room.

But this theater looked and smelled nothing close to used. Jinyoung knew what a well-used theater looked and smelled like, having grown up in the company himself. Generations of his family have been with the company as they had founded it themselves.

Here everything was dusty but obviously untouched, and the royal staff member giving them the tour was explaining that they’re only just getting around to cleaning up this hall because it was the biggest cleanup job of all, and that it would be ready in a day or two, but they were free to look around. Actual rehearsals were temporarily set up in a separate rehearsal hall built adjacent to the theater, because _of course_ there’s a rehearsal hall. In fact, an entire _wing_ of the castle was full of rooms for music and dance.

Because despite all the past years of silence in the castle, it was built to host beauty and sound.

Jinyoung thought this theater was very impressive, but despite the excited chatter around him, he was in a daze—because yes, this theater is gorgeous, but _no, this is not the same theater he remembers._

This theater isn't the same because it's only a replica of the one that used to be in the kingdom's older castle, the one he grew up going to when the company used to perform there. From his toddler years up until he turned 15, Jinyoung had regularly been able to visit the old theater they told in the stories, and this new one that looked the same but was just _not_ the same had him feeling disconcerted.

An arm is thrown around his neck by the taller of the two rascals, and suddenly one of the loud voices was right at his ear.

"Ah, Your Royal Uptightness, you made it! We made it! What a damn honor! Can you believe you've dreamt about this nonstop ever since you made your first _plié_ and now you're here? By this I mean like actually performing, you know? Not like as a kid running around backstage but like as a performer? As a _lead_? I mean yeah, duh, you've been doing leads for a while, and maybe soon Bambam and I could do leads too, but this is—" Yugyeom is cut off by Jinyoung shoving his face away and ducking under the arm around him.

Yugyeom whines about Jinyoung and his inclination for violence which Jinyoung has long learned to tune out. Bambam doesn't take the hint and still moves closer to Jinyoung, clinging onto an arm and dragging Jinyoung further down the main aisle into the theater.

"Seriously though," Bambam says, gesturing wildly around the massive hall, "is it just as they say? Just as you remember?"

Jinyoung sighs and rolls his eyes. "Yes. Just like I said the first five times the both of you have asked me since they first opened the doors. _Yes_."

"Don't be such a grump," Bambam complains. "I'm sorry we're not all company royalty who have seen this place a million times before!"

Both these gangly boys are pains in Jinyoung's side, because loud voices and annoyingly tall statures aside, they have a flair for the dramatic. Always. And Jinyoung is done with it.

"Stop calling me royalty when we're in an actual royal palace, you brat," Jinyoung retorts, unfazed. "Or on second thought, keep at it. Maybe someone will overhear and think it's treasonous, and they'll lock you up somewhere and rid me of you."

Bambam only cackles, being the less sensitive one between him and Yugyeom. "Oh Jinyoungie, you would be bored after only a minute without me."

Jinyoung says nothing but shoves Bambam in Yugyeom's direction, ignoring the now doubled cackling. He walks further away from them, one hand absentmindedly trailing over seats as he passes them.

While he struggles to process all his feelings about this untouched and dusty theater that looked exactly like the older one he loved, he can't deny the warmth blooming in his chest at the reminder that _he did make it there_. No longer as a tag-along, but as the lead role in the main show.

He makes it all the way to the foot of the stage, right in the orchestra pit. He finds his way to one of the stairs at the side and makes his way onto the stage itself, walking to the center. He looks out into the audience and he sees some staff by the doors, he sees the two rascals counting how many seats there are in a row, he sees the other dancers from the company milling around and pointing things out here and there.

He takes a deep breath and feels the solid wood under his feet. He starts to feel the familiar cloud of doubt and anxiety creeping in on him and threatening to paralyze him, but he wills it away. Just for this one moment. It'll be back to plague him, but he just wants this one moment.

Because for this one moment he just wants to think of his parents and how he's made it all the way to this stage—to _their_ stage—but they aren't there to share it with him.

\- ♢ -

Jaebeom pulls his coat tighter against him as he stands in the crisp autumn air. The coolness is usually a welcome reprieve for him as it clears his head, but today he barely notices it.

Truth be told, he's making a valiant attempt to compartmentalize—aka he's trying not think about the company currently setting up and settling down in the east wing of his castle. He's making a valiant attempt even if he skipped dinner the night before and dismissed all his servants when he ran to his bathroom to dry heave, Mark being the only person standing guard by the bathroom door (he's given up trying to kick the captain out; at least Mark gives him enough room to himself and doesn't incessantly hover).

He's making a valiant attempt because he is obviously handling well the arrivals of both the company and his fiancé. _Obviously_. Even when he can't decide which one is making him feel worse.

Unlike the company's arrival which he avoided witnessing, he couldn't back out of this one.

He stands at the bottom of the steps leading up to the castle doors flanked by Mark, several advisors, and a mix of guards and staff—the welcoming committee to his fiancé’s entourage. On a daily basis he wears his long-sleeved white silk shirt (the laces on his chest take forever to fix so he rarely bothers with them) tucked into fitting trousers, which are then tucked into his usual boots. Even the coats he dons aren’t anything fancy, and they all even look the same if not for the different earth tones they come in. He also hides behind his long hair a lot, but on some rare days, people got to see (or suffer?) the full force of his sharp gaze when he’d comb it back.

Jaebeom didn’t need clothes to look like a king. Didn’t even need to put his crown on his head. No matter how indifferent he seemed, he was born into royalty—it was in the way he held himself, in the way he commanded a room without even speaking, in the way he exuded calm authority. He was a natural.

But today, there was no mistaking who he was: he had come to greet his fiancé in his full royal regalia. Maybe not as fancy as what he was going to be dressed in on his wedding day, but today he showed up in a coat of deep blue the same shade as his hair, lined with thin silver threads; the velvet material was so soft to touch, buttoned all the way up to his long, pale neck. The navy trousers he wore were spotless and without crease. The cape he wore over all this was of silver so subtle it only shone when direct sunlight hit it. The royal crown sat atop his hair that was neatly combed back that day—it was made of crystal and designed to look like interwoven branches dotted with snowflake-shaped diamonds.

The only thing that stayed the same no matter how Jaebeom dressed were the small, twin diamond piercings that sat just below his right eye, on the very top of his high cheekbones. A mirror to the twin moles just above his left eye.

In all that, he looked the perfect picture of the ice king he had become known as. Like winter personified.

From the west, he could finally hear the rattling of carriages and hooves clopping. He inhaled sharply, realizing he was finally going to face the stranger he was going to have to spend the rest of his life with, and this had him quite light-headed.

Mark senses his distress and takes a small step in his direction, as if to say _I’m here, you have me_.

Jaebeom exhaled slowly, and right then the carriage stops and someone emerges.

He was not what Jaebeom imagined.

Jaebeom isn’t actually sure what he expected this crown prince to be like, but it wasn’t this.

The man who stepped out of the carriage looked to be around his age. He had shoulders almost as wide as Jaebeom, but he was definitely better built. He came dressed in crimson and gold, his own kingdom’s colors—a warm contrast to Jaebeom’s own blue and silver.

When Jaebeom finally looked to the prince’s face, he had to rein in the shock on his face.

This prince was gorgeous.

He had warm chocolate eyes, wide and and smiling and _trusting_. He hadn't even spoken yet, but Jaebeom could tell he was a loud one. Maybe it was in the way he looked like he was vibrating with excitement where he stood, or maybe in the way he was grinning so hard his cheeks were dimpling. His face was built like a a Greek god, with his strong facial bone structure, and his soft hair was sweeping over one side of his forehead.

He was gorgeous… but that was it. Jaebeom could appreciate an attractive person, and that was all there was to it. He has long understood how political marriages worked, and while he had long closed his heart off to almost any kind of emotion, he was surprised he found himself the tiniest bit disappointed that he felt nothing looking at this prince.

He snaps out of his reverie just in time to see the prince right in front of him, bending to a bow and coming up still wearing a grin.

"Ah, Your Majesty, I don't know why I'm still surprised at how absolutely stunning you are when I've heard all about you and seen your portraits," the prince says, eyes twinkling.

Jaebeom is taken aback at how forward the prince is being, and before he can even muster a reply, the prince has stepped closer to him to grab and kiss his hand that bears the royal signet ring. "Prince Jackson at your pleasure, sire," he says.

It seems even Jackson's attendants are flustered at his actions as one steps up to him to hurriedly murmur in his ear, and Jaebeom catches the attendant's panicked _why didn't you let me introduce you, Your Highness,_ which Jackson brushes off lightheartedly.

Jaebeom finally finds his voice (despite the low sniggering he can hear from Mark behind him—which just adds to his shock, honestly, 'cause Mark? Laughing?) and he clears his throat lightly before speaking. "Welcome to our humble kingdom, Prince Jackson. I hope all was well during your journey."

Jackson waves a hand. "Just Jackson to you, sire. I'd call you Jaebeom as well but I'm pretty sure that's against the rules or something." Everyone present gasps at the way Jackson calls the king casually, and when Jackson turns to look at an attendant closest to him to see a gaping mouth, he lets loose a loud guffaw, tearing up from how hard he was laughing.

At this point, Jaebeom is positively malfunctioning. He's not so much bothered by the first-name calling more than the simple fact that this prince is _too much_ for his disoriented mind that's already straining at the seams. He's seen Jackson all of 5 minutes and the prince is already acting like they're the Best of Friends. On top of all that, Mark is _still_ sniggering.

He doesn't know what to do. How to act. This isn't something he's had to deal with since he was a child. After years of monotony, he was in over his head.

Jaebeom takes a second to look over his shoulder and narrow his eyes at Mark who just lightly smirks at him, as if to say, _how interesting this one, don't you think_? He looks back to Jackson who is now pushing closed the jaw of his poor attendant and says, "Jaebeom is fine, if you wish to call me that. We are to be married soon, after all." The words taste weird in his mouth, but he might as well get used to saying it out loud.

Jackson perks up (Jaebeom doesn't understand how he still had room to perk up even more than he already was). "Wonderful!" Jackson exclaims. "Shall we start a castle tour now, then? I heard the view from your hallways out to the forest is gorgeous no matter the season," he happily remarks, and Jaebeom gestures for his staff to part in order to let Jackson and his own people pass through and climb the steps to the castle. He catches Mark's eye again and he knows Mark can tell how out of his depth he was feeling.

\- ♢ -

They make it to the gardens where the gardeners had finally finished up all the trimming and sweeping, and Mark trails them while Jackson walks a step in front of Jaebeom—another thing that earned gasps and raised eyebrows because no one walks in front of the king, but Jaebeom just couldn't find the energy to care about it.

Jackson's a handful for Jaebeom, that's for sure. Maybe a little much for his usual quiet and cool. But Jaebeom can't seem to hate him, not anymore; not after being around Jackson's warmth all morning. Even Jaebeom has to admit the joy and excitement is a bit infectious, and he has to fight a little harder to stay indifferent around the prince.

Jackson's animatedly telling a story about the one time he managed to annoy a herd of goats that chased him through the gardens back in his home, and Jaebeom swears he's trying to listen to Jackson, but his eyes drift to a figure sitting on a bench under a tree that managed to keep its leaves despite autumn being in full-swing already; the person has his eyes closed while he motionlessly sits under an umbrella of red and orange foliage.

Jaebeom stares and he tries not to be too intense about it. It's just that he can't put a finger on what it is about this man, and he's had a hell of a night and morning already, so his mind is slower than usual. Jaebeom can't help but stare because he looks so _beautiful,_ but also unnervingly familiar*—*

"Oh, hi there!" Jackson exclaims. It takes Jaebeom a second to realize Jackson wasn't talking to him anymore and had instead started towards the man he realized had distracted the king. _On his way to make more friends_ , Jaebeom muses, _'cause it seems to be so easy for him._

The man on the bench is obviously startled and his eyes fly open. It doesn't take him long to notice how Jackson is dressed as he approaches, and it takes him only another half second to notice Jaebeom not too far behind, dressed also just as regally.

He hurries to stand, but despite his hurry he doesn't fumble; he drops to a graceful curtsy. Head still bowed he says in a low but clear voice, "Your Highness, I offer my apologies for not noticing your presence and intruding. If I may, I shall take my leave now—"

"No, no, please it's nothing to worry about!" Jackson hurries to reassure the man. "Please, you've bowed long enough, up, up already, c'mon," he cheerfully adds, clapping on the man's shoulder.

The man straightens with his hands clasped politely in front of himself. "My apologies anyway, sire. Had I known you would be walking through here I would not have come."

Jackson just hums as if to brush it off, but he raises his eyebrows when Jinyoung turns away from him and gives an even deeper curtsy in Jaebeom's direction, with a just as low murmur of, "good day, your Majesty."

An incline of his head is all Jaebeom gives in response and he hears the tiny _tsk_ Jackson tries to hide at his lackluster response. Jaebeom wonders who this man is, and just when he is about to steel himself to actually ask, Jackson beats him to it.

"So! What brings you to the gardens? Aside from its beauty, of course, and it is so gorgeous is it not?" Jackson interrupts himself and gasps, "Oh is it a date? Are you meeting someone here? What a gorgeous day it is to be out!"

The man blushes. "Ah, no, sire, it's nothing like that. I've had a noisy morning and I'm merely trying to get a little air before I have to go back in and rehearse."

Jaebeom stiffens at this. If Jackson says anything in reply, he no longer hears it; his mind goes blank at the realization that this man is with the _company_. Of course he is, _of course he's with the company_. No one curtsies that fluidly by accident.

The king knows Mark watches him for a reaction, and it is only his iron will again that saves him from showing just that.

Just when he had been so close to letting a little of the ice melt around Jackson because _maybe things aren't so bad_ , of _course_ this blindsides him.

This mysterious, beautiful man was too good to be true, and he becomes another thing on Jaebeom's already long list of things to keep him up at night.

Luckily for Jaebeom, he's the king—and walking away from anything without needing to offer an excuse was perfectly okay.

(He knows Mark automatically follows, but he doesn't see Jackson's mouth half-open in a suppressed attempt to call to him. And he doesn't see the sharp questioning gaze of the beautiful man.

But he can almost feel it burn into the back of his head. Almost.)

\- ♢ -

It's a few hours after dinner, a few hours even after the last rehearsal run for the day, and Jinyoung has given up on trying to sleep. He has always had trouble sleeping when he has performances looming close because he is absolutely brutal with himself about being a _perfect_ performer.

He sighs and gets out of bed, grabs his dance shoes, and quietly leaves the guest room he shares with Yugyeom and Bambam. He heads towards the direction of the practice rooms, but when he's close he hears soft piano music coming from the room at the end of the hall—the one they were told during the tour was off limits to everyone, no exception.

Curious, he silently makes his way and finds the door slightly ajar, and when he pushes it open just a little bit more, he sees a grand piano in the far end of the room, framed by a huge glass window; moonlight bathes the piano and the silhouette seated and playing.

The silhouette plays a melody familiar to Jinyoung, and before he can place the tune, he doesn't notice how he accidentally pushes the door wider open and it creaks on its hinges. The figure stiffens and abruptly stops playing; Jinyoung is ready to dart away and escape, but just before he does, the figure turns in his seat and Jinyoung locks gazes with his Royal Majesty—the last person he expected to see.

He can't run now that he knows the king has seen him—he's not sure if that would constitute as treason?—so instead he lowers his head and steps into the room.

It's silent for a few more seconds; the king has not said anything and Jinyoung makes a deep inhale quietly. "Please forgive me, your Majesty," he says quietly into the silence, not daring to look the at the king's face, "I did not mean to intrude and disturb." _For the second time today,_ he wants to add, but doesn't.

Jinyoung is surprised to hear a sigh in response and then an equally quiet, "There was no harm done." It was the first time Jinyoung heard him speak, after only getting a nod and a stony face earlier that day before the king had walked off wordlessly. He didn't even say much, but from the little he did, Jinyoung felt a chill run through him at the cold voice.

He wasn't even looking at the king's face but he could tell a hard gaze matched that voice.

It was a clear dismissal, and so Jinyoung turns to leave, but he really was a stubborn one and truly could not help his curiosity, so he takes the risk to voice a thought.

"Your Majesty, if I may ask... what was that tune you were playing just now? It sounded familiar to me but I couldn't quite—" Jinyoung breaks off when he sees the way the king's face tightens while he spoke.

He was about to issue more apologies (how many times had he apologized to a royal that day?) when the king let out another resigned sigh, turned back to the piano, and said, "Just... a piece."

He didn't say anything more after that so Jinyoung was just about to take the hint and finally let it go when the king says, "Wait."

Despite asking him to stay, the king turns his back to Jinyoung to face the piano again. He asks, "You were the one from the gardens today, correct?"

"Yes, sire," Jinyoung replies at once, although unsure about where this was going.

The king takes a moment before he continues. "You say this is familiar to you. How?"

Jinyoung hesitates, then replies, "I am trying to remember what performance it is from, your Grace, but I know I had heard it many times when I was younger—"

"Heard it _many times_?" the king interrupts him, and disbelief colors his otherwise usually emotionless voice. This time the king turns to look at him, but Jinyoung cannot read his face well as the king sits in a spot where he's backlit by the moonlight.

"Yes, your Grace," Jinyoung replies slowly.

Something still bothered the king because he asks "But _how_?" and before Jinyoung could reply again the king adds, "No one from outside the royal family could have heard this piece. No one else could know this, but..." The king is still facing him, but his face remains unreadable in the shadows, and his head tilts in further confusion.

Jinyoung beats the king to another question he might ask, venturing with the explanation he thinks the king might be looking for.

"My family has been with the company for generations, sire. My parents were both performers themselves, my mother a dancer and my father a musician. Whenever they toured with the company, they took me along with them. There is no performance of the company I have not been introduced to."

The king shakes his head slowly. "No," he answers in a quiet voice. "It doesn't matter that you were with the company even then. The only people who are familiar with _this_ specific piece are—" the king's head snaps up and Jinyoung instinctively looks up at the way the king's voice catches, accidentally locking eyes with him.

"You," the king says, and the way he says it oddly feels like a taut string snapping, or an expanding balloon finally popping. Jinyoung cannot tell what it is that colors the king's voice now, and if he isn't imagining it, he thinks the king's gaze seems to have become even sharper. " _You._ "

The king gets up from the piano seat and starts toward Jinyoung, and Jinyoung panics but remains where he stands. The king's face is still in shadow but the closer he comes, the more Jinyoung can tell; the king is studying him with a look in his eyes that Jinyoung can't place.

And then it dawns on Jinyoung.

Recognition. That is what he sees in the king's eyes.

The king is now only two feet away from him, and right before Jinyoung is about to ask what is it about himself, the king softly asks,

"Jirongie? Is it you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello omg i really posted a prologue+a chapter in one go 2 months ago and then DIPPED . my bad my bad
> 
> this 4k something words in a chapter comes to yall at 1:30AM after i finally opened the fic document this afternoon. it took me two months to even think about this again because i really could NOT figure out what i wanted to do with this story, but i finally hashed out a plot. i think.
> 
> im not sure if this feels too rushed or too off or something but its HERE and thats all that matters [to me]. also yes jaebeom has his long blue hair in this fic because i cant believe we only had that for a DAY during the DYE promos. and not even on a stage performance or something smh.
> 
> anyway pls leave comments below or come talk on twitter (@sunrisebeom) if theres anything u wanna say !! like literally anything . u could tell me what u had for breakfast and id appreciate it.
> 
> thanks for reading thru this note if you did! thats so cool of u xx


	4. it would be a hundred times easier if we were young again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Autumn promised to bring change, and Jaebeom is not at all prepared for the change to come in the form of the return of someone he had terribly missed for so many years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it would be a hundred times easier  
> if we were young again  
> but as it is  
> and it is  
> to think that we could stay the same  
> but we're two slow dancers, last ones out  
> (Two Slow Dancers, Mitski)

Jaebeom in the present did not have any friends in the strict sense, but the current captain of his personal guard was his age and had been a squire when they all still lived in the old castle. They weren’t really friends when they were young, but there was one time when he had caught the young squire Mark trying to sneak into the theater before a performance, and he had approached the squire to ask what he was doing. Startled, Mark fumbled into a bow at the waist, mumbling quiet but hurried apologies to the young prince. Before he could scamper away though, Jaebeom took him by the arm and gave him a grin with a look that sort of said, “just play along.” The squire was puzzled but hurried to catch up to the prince who had started to walk towards the guards by the theater’s massive doors. The guards took one look at the prince and bowed with a murmured chorus of “your highness”. The squire kept his head down and kept close to the prince, and no one questioned him. The prince found him a seat in the theater, grinning at him one more time before running towards his own seat in the front row.

Ever since then, it became routine: the squire would find the prince waiting for him before every performance at the theater, waving with a warm smile. The prince would look for him after it was all over to gush about the performance and to ask him what part he liked best. They couldn't really be regular friends because of how different their day-to-day lives were, but Mark would always look forward to performance nights. It was hard not to enjoy being around the prince.

The company knew of the prince's love for them, and so after every curtain call at the end of a performance, the lead dancer would come down from the stage and offer the prince a bouquet of orange tulips, to show their appreciation for their most earnest fan.

It was in one of the performances a few months after the two young boys' routine meet-ups began that the company's lead dancer—and young Jaebeom's favorite—decided to start sending out her son in her place to offer the flowers to the prince. The first time the boy meekly curtsied and handed him the bouquet, Jaebeom was immediately fascinated by him; he thought about how cool it must be to grow up in the company like this boy did! And so he started hunting this boy down even on days where there were no performances and the company was only in their rehearsal halls.

_Jinyoung_ , the boy said, when Jaebeom first found him and asked for his name.

It took a while for the boy to warm up to Jaebeom, but he eventually did, just like everyone else. From then on, every time the company was at the castle, the two were simply inseparable. Young Jinyoung was reserved where young Jaebeom was loud, and yet they clicked so well that it amazed everyone who saw them. Jaebeom was always dragging Jinyoung to the castle kitchens to pout at the chefs and beg for snacks; Jinyoung was always telling Jaebeom stories about what went on in the company. When Jinyoung had dance practice, Jaebeom would be right there in the rehearsal hall, watching in awe. When Jaebeom had to work on his horseback riding or piano playing, Jinyoung would also be there, watching quietly in just as much awe.

Some days Jaebeom would find Mark on his free time and would ask the squire to join him and Jinyoung for the day. On the quieter days they would be in the piano room with Jaebeom practicing (and groaning every five minutes because he just couldn't nail a piece), Jinyoung reading or doing light stretches, and Mark dozing off. Other days were spent outdoors in the gardens where they would play tag or hide-and-seek, and Jaebeom would always loudly complain about how Mark was being unfair for escaping by climbing up trees or Jinyoung was cheating because he always knew where to find Jaebeom. (He wasn't cheating. Jaebeom was just bad at hiding.)

But really, on most days it was just Jaebeom and Jinyoung. They grew so close they didn't even need words to communicate. Jinyoung knew where exactly to find Jaebeom when he was having a bad day; he knew that those were days when Jaebeom was drowning in whatever he was feeling at the moment and somehow Jinyoung's quiet companionship was all he needed to slowly come out of it, the silent offer of support always calming him. On days when it was Jinyoung who was beating himself up while lost in his insecurities about being a dancer even at such a young age, it was always Jaebeom's excited chirping of, "Jirongie, Jirongie!" — young Jaebeom could never say his name right— "Let's go see if they're picking apples from the trees in the gardens today!" or some other thing he wanted to do for the day, as if he knew Jinyoung needed to get out of his own head.

They only saw each other for a handful of weeks a few times a year, but they always picked up where they left off. Each hello when they reunited was a mix of Jaebeom already talking a mile a minute the second Jinyoung is in earshot to tell Jinyoung all about what he missed, while Jinyoung tries not to smile so hard. Each goodbye when they had to part was marked by tight hugs and tearful faces, Jinyoung's quiet sniffling the opposite of Jaebeom's loud sobbing.

They meant more to each other than they could ever comprehend at that age, and so one can only imagine how both of them managed to spend years apart with no communication at all.

\- ♢ -

_"Jirongie, is it you?”_

Time seems to have stilled. Jinyoung doesn't think the king is breathing; he's not even sure he's breathing himself.

The thing is, Jinyoung did know the king from before, from that time Yugyeom and Bambam always griped about how wish they experienced themselves. He remembers twin crescents over a grin stretched so wide from excitement. He remembers loud laughter and loud clapping from the smallest person in the audience, seated front and center at every show. He remembers warm arms enveloping him in hugs each time they met and each time they parted.

But that was before, and Jinyoung's not sure what to say now. Frankly, none of his companions at the company are aware about how well Jinyoung knows— _knew_ —the king. How does he explain to people that the most powerful man in the land with a reputation for being intimidatingly cold was once the person who knew him best? Who hugged him tight and made him laugh and shared so many things with him that it was hard to tell where he ended and the other boy began?How was he supposed to explain that this ice king was once just a carefree boy who felt everything fiercely and was so open and warm it was hard not to be drawn to him?

He hasn't said anything to them because he doesn't want the extra attention he's sure to get; he wasn't even sure if the king would remember him, much less just amicably pick up from where they left off right before everything changed.

He remembers the young prince from before but he doesn't know this man in the present, so he's not sure what to say. It just isn't the same.

"I—" Jinyoung's voice cracks. He holds the king's gaze, and past the recognition he sees there, nothing else could be gleaned. Jinyoung hesitates because it's not simple. He is of the company, and it's no secret how the king—as he is in the present—feels about them. He's not sure how to reply when he can't gauge what the king is thinking, but it's not easy to lie through this one.

It feels like a tipping point right then and there and Jinyoung's mind wars with itself, but in all honesty, Jinyoung has thought about this boy—this _man_ —and this moment far too many times to pretend he wasn't secretly pleased to be recognized.

"I have not heard that name in over a decade, your Grace," he murmurs into the thick silence, looking away as he says this. He's not sure he can bear to see the reaction on the king's face as he confirms what he can tell that the king already knows.

He doesn't realize he was bracing himself for something until he feels fingers tilt his chin up, touching him so lightly he wouldn't have felt it had he not been so tightly wound. He's forced to look back into the king's eyes and even if the king hadn't spoken yet, Jinyoung sees his reaction.

In place of the hard wall he was expecting, the king's gaze was now so full and open, like it was a dam that had suddenly broken, full of tenderness and sorrow and wonder and anxiety all at once. Jinyoung is so taken aback, he can't even get himself to pull away no matter how intense it felt. He feels like he's drowning in all the emotion suddenly clear as day on the king's face—a complete opposite to the impenetrable fortress he had seen since he arrived at the castle.

The king's fingers move to trace a line over his cheekbone with a touch that was still so, so light, like he was afraid Jinyoung was not real. Jinyoung held as still as possible, still reeling in shock from being barraged by the king's emotions and simultaneously fighting his own wave of bittersweet nostalgia—but also because he didn’t want to startle the king into stopping.

The king blinks and it's like he's fighting to regain control of himself. His touch disappears from Jinyoung's face and the trail it left behind seems to tingle.

For the second time that day, the king offers no excuse to his exit and just walks away.

\- ♢ -

For the second night in a row, Jaebeom doesn't sleep a wink.

Well, he can't sleep most nights, but recent days have been worse than usual. He already got only an hour or two of sleep in the days since the company arrived as he battled memories that fought their way to the forefront of his mind. Then he got zero sleep the night before Jackson's arrival, his mind refusing to quiet from all the worry and anger at the entire situation.

But this night—oh, this night just seemed to top it all off.

Jaebeom has learned to mute his feelings over the years. When he was younger, he was always at a hundred percent for whatever feeling: ecstatic with joy, buzzing with excitement, heart-wrenchingly sad, or burning up with rage. He loved and hated things with passion, proudly wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see.

He shut that all off after that terrible autumn. Feeling so much wasn't great when all you're left to feel are the bad stuff—grief, loneliness, anger, and despair. He's been able to keep himself relatively safe from all that pain... until tonight.

As a young prince, Jaebeom was adored and favored by almost every single person in the entire kingdom. But young prince Jaebeom, no matter how much love he had in his heart to give, saved the best and brightest of his smiles for one person only.

_Park Jinyoung._ Kind, beautiful, smart Park Jinyoung.

More and more memories have been plaguing him recently, but this night Jaebeom could not help but think of a certain boy with his eye whiskers and dimples, hand always flying to his face to cover it when he couldn't help but laugh at young Jaebeom's antics. He could not help but remember a determined gaze on a handsome face when the dancer was focused on landing a quadruple pirouette just right. He could not help but remember the way it felt like his heart could not contain all the affection he had for the boy, even when they were just sitting shoulder to shoulder, not even saying a word to each other and just enjoying a quiet moment.

That piece Jaebeom was playing in the piano room was familiar to Jinyoung because it was from Jaebeom’s most favorite of all the performances of the company, a gift specially commissioned by his parents from the performers their son adored the most.It was a duet of sorts: there was only one musician and one dancer.And no one outside the royal family and the particular performers of that repertoire could know anything about it, because it was only ever performed in private.

It was a piece from a very special performance, and the only people in the world who would be able to recognize it are Jaebeom, his parents, the musician, the dancer—and their son who, at the end of the performance, handed Jaebeom a bouquet of orange tulips like he always did.

Jaebeom has shut a lot of his memories in a box in his head, and not revisiting them for a long time has made a lot of them fuzzy at the edges—but every memory with Park Jinyoung remains clear and just as vivid as the day they were each created, no matter how long it has been since he last thought about them.

Suddenly the sky outside his window is brightening and dawn has already come. Jaebeom has spent another night sitting at the bay window in his office, and that is where Mark finds him (again) when he comes to fetch the king for breakfast with Jackson.

_Shit_ , Jaebeom thinks. He's surprised to have forgotten about the energetic Jackson, when he's admittedly a difficult character to forget. Mark only raises an eyebrow when he hears the king quietly groan to himself in a rare display of emotion (which seem to be increasing recently). Jaebeom knows Mark would never pry, but he's so tired and overwhelmed, and Mark is the only person in the castle he could trust enough to be vulnerable around.

The king tilts his head at his guard in a request to come in, and he gestures at the armchair nearby for Mark to sit in. Mark comes in and only perches on an armrest, the most he's willing to relax given the nature of his job.

It's quiet for a while as Jaebeom tries to organize his thoughts and Mark just watches him patiently. Jaebeom gives up on figuring out where to even start untangling his thoughts and just straight up asks, "Did you know it was him? That he was here?”

Years of quiet companionship between the two of them seemed to be enough for Mark to understand exactly what Jaebeom meant. "Not at first," Mark replies in his usual calm. "Not until you walked away in the gardens, because I recognized the look he was giving you before I went to follow you, and I realized why it was so familiar." Jaebeom had actually visibly flinched at this, but Mark just carried on. "But it seems you didn't realize it yet then." _Until now_ , is what Mark leaves unsaid.

Jaebeom drags his eyes away from looking out his window to look at Mark. Mark was just as unreadable as he was, maybe a little less intimidating than himself but always put together. That was what he appreciated the most about his oldest companion—everything had changed around Jaebeom, from 10 years ago to just the last few weeks, but Mark is still the same quiet, reliable person he befriended all those years ago.

"I'm scared, Mark," the king quietly admits, knuckles white from how tightly he was clenching his fists in his lap. "I'm just... I don't know what to do.”

Mark's chest constricts at the soft admission and the sight of his oldest friend going through emotional turmoil, especially after having been around for the last major breakdown. Mark admits that deep down he was sad to see Jaebeom lose all that vibrancy from his childhood, but at that young age when he saw Jaebeom's world fall apart he felt so helpless, and so he decided to just stand by his king—and friend—as he put up his walls because he could see it was the best Jaebeom could do to protect himself then.

Mark could already kind of anticipate just how much harder this entire ordeal will be for the king—and Jinyoung. He was there to see them all those years ago, and he knew for himself just how deep the connection between the two ran. It was difficult enough for him to watch Jaebeom deny to himself how much he missed Jinyoung over the years when they hadn't been in touch at all; what more now with the two of them in the same space again, both of them aware that the other is not too far away?

There is a wire connecting the two that has loosely slackened over the years they spent apart, and right now it is being pulled tauter and tauter. Mark knows it's inevitable it'll snap, it's only a matter of when.

_Shit_ , Mark thinks suddenly. He has a sinking realization that it's about to get even _more_ complicated.

He, like Jaebeom, forgot about Jackson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it's been a hot minute but here i am again at 3AM (!!!!!) after a sudden burst of inspiration to try to get a little further with this little story.
> 
> i've been so preoccupied with real life things (like my new job fhjshfshd) but spending the last 4 hours furiously typing to put this chapter together was actually the most fulfilled i've felt in a while :---)
> 
> if you've made it to this chapter (and this note) thank u from the depths of my soul !!! leave a comment if u feel like it and let me know if you have any thoughts hehe
> 
> warm hugs and holiday greetings to u xxxx


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